


Innocence Lost

by spilled_inkwell



Series: Innocence Lost [1]
Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020), Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Vampires, vampire baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_inkwell/pseuds/spilled_inkwell
Summary: The baby. The thing that was once a baby, Jonathan corrected, was still there.
Relationships: Dracula & Jonathan Harker
Series: Innocence Lost [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041597
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Also known as, "What happened to the baby?!"  
> I originally wrote this all the way back in February so I may not continue this. Be advised that I have taken a lot of liberties with the TV show's lore and about how vampires are made so just roll with it, I guess.  
> Also, I may have missed Halloween but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

_He killed me. That bastard killed me._

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Usually, people have a lie-down first.”

Clawing at the flagstones, dragging his body upright, wheezing more out of habit than necessity, Jonathan propped his weak body against the parapet. He glared up at the count. The devil’s face was split into a jagged smile.

“This changes everything.” His eyes trailed over Jonathan as if he were seeing him for the first time. “You could be my finest bride.” This he seemed to say to himself as he advanced upon Jonathan.

“N-no.” He hauled himself to his feet, meeting Dracula’s eyes with his own defiantly.

The smile morphed into something almost fond. “Johnny, you’re like me.”

“No!” Jonathan blinked, surprised at how vehemently he had hissed the very word. Dracula’s smile never wavered. “I am not like you.”

_He’s going to London. He’ll do this to countless others. Like hell if I’ll allow it while I can still stand on my own two feet._

“Oh, but you are,” breathed the count, stepping closer. “Stay. Stay with me, Johnny.” A clawed hand ran itself up Jonathan’s arm. He wrenched away from the touch as if burned but it was Dracula that screeched and recoiled violently at the movement. Looking down Jonathan took note of the crucifix that slipped out from his loose gown. He gasped, grasping the weighty cross tightly in his hand.

“Let me pass,” he demanded. Dracula frothed at the mouth, his eyes murderous.

“Take that off now!” 

“Let me pass!”

Jonathan advanced towards the door with sure steps. Hissing and writhing like a snake the count reluctantly stepped aside. Casting a final look at the creature Jonathan turned and ran as fast as he was able.

Sinister laughter seemed to echo through the castle. Jonathan darted down a hallway and into one of the many secret passageways he had memorised. He kept running, seemingly in circles, for as long as he could then pushed himself further, using the wall as a support.

_I’m so hungry. Damn the beast, but I’m hungry._

He was sure he could hear a faint scratching. Following the sound brought Jonathan to the door of the room containing the brides. Grasping the crucifix in one hand he cautiously opened the door. If one bride had sussed out their box what was to say another hadn't broken free also. 

Her body was still pinned to the floor. He could smell her blood. It rankled in his nose and he turned away.

The inhabitant of one box was completely silent. Another occasionally darted a hand out into the glass attachment to swipe a rat. The third box was where the scratching sound was emanating and a wave of nausea roiled within Jonathan.

The baby. The thing that was once a baby, Jonathan corrected, was still there. Jonathan placed a shaking hand on the box. He had been too weak to save it, too drained, too slow. He wondered if it would be a kindness to kill the babe, to protect it from it’s fate.

He opened the lid of the box. Black eyes stared up at him. The babe made a hissing gurgle as it scrabbled at the wall of the box.

_He can smell her._

Jonathan shuddered. Reaching a hand down into the box he saw the child’s eyes focus on the limb. Then it grabbed his hand and bit him. Although he had assumed that such a thing would happen Jonathan still yelped in surprise, yanking his hand back to himself. The baby hadn’t broken his skin as it had no teeth, yet the scratches from it’s wicked nails stung. 

Taking a step back Jonathan took a closer look at the box from all sides, assessing if there was another point of ingress. Then, struck with inspiration, closely examined the glass flask-like extrusion. The bag which had once contained the babe lied therein. Very soon he found what he was looking for, an opening.

Taking the bag he swiftly reclosed the exit. He could see black eyes peering curiously at him from the shadow of the box proper. The bag contained an extremely torn and very bloody babe’s nightgown and a similarly destroyed blanket. Jonathan hadn’t the heart to bundle the babe into the bag once again. He took the blanket in hand and, before he could lose his nerve, climbed bodily into the box.

The babe made it’s strange gurgling as it crawled towards Jonathan yet the man was ready for it. Wrapping the babe proved to be difficult and Jonathan suffered many scratches to his arms for his efforts. The child screeched in fury and Jonathan’s heart broke. Cradling the now swaddled babe close to his chest Jonathan climbed out of the box. He felt hard gums gnawing at his collarbone and shifted the child so it rested more comfortably in his arms. 

“Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here Johnny,” drawled the count from where he was leaning against the doorframe. 

Jonathan clutched the child close while his other hand worked to free the cross from where it was now pressed to his breastbone. Catching the movement Dracula swiftly strode into the room and grabbed Jonathan’s wrist in an iron grip.

“Ah, we’ll have no more of that now.”

“Let go of me!” he spat.

“What have you got here Johnny?” Despite how Jonathan twisted away from the probing hand, the count pulled back the blanket to reveal the child’s face which was screwed up in frustration. He laughed. “Oh Johnny,” he cooed, petting the babe’s cheek with a long finger, “and I thought I was the sentimental one.”

“Don’t touch him.”

The count’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “He looks a little hungry Johnny.”

“I said don’t touch him!” To his amazement Dracula released his hold on them and Jonathan staggered back. The count prowled around the two like a beast cornering it’s prey.

“Why?” The query seemed to be genuine but Jonathan felt more like an intriguing experiment rather than a man at this moment. “Why do you care Johnny?” he repeated, the nickname keeping the fires of Jonathan’s fury lit like a pilot light. “Wouldn’t it be more merciful to destroy it?”

The mirroring of his own thoughts made Jonathan’s heart turn to lead. He looked down at the child who was still latched onto his collarbone. Black eyes blinked up at him from a face so pale it was almost blue.

_He doesn’t know any better. He’s angry and hungry and I couldn’t save him._

Jonathan could no more kill this child than he could kill any other being. The exception was staring intently at the pair waiting patiently for an answer.

“I’m responsible for him,” he said eventually.

_And I won’t allow him to be turned into a monster like you. Or me._

Dracula stopped his pacing and stared, his face inscrutable.

“Alright. You’re responsible for him.” Jonathan looked up from the child’s face, surprised. Dracula shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m not completely unreasonable, but, Johnny, you must see the irony here.”

Jonathan frowned. “Irony?”

“Yes.” The count took a step closer, then leaned in so as to be but a breath away. Jonathan was like stone, holding the piercing gaze. “You are mine, Jonathan Harker.”

The child made a noise of protest. Jonathan loosened his grip and gritted his teeth. “No.”

“Yes!” bellowed the count. “Yes you are Johnny. It’s not just the child who is hungry, and who do you think will feed you? You’re weak, Jonathan, but I want to help you.”

“Help me?” Jonathan sputtered incredulously.

“Don’t play the fool, it’s most unbecoming. I will help you to unleash your full potential and I can sense that you, my dearest Johnny, are going to be full of surprises.”

They stared at one another for a long moment before Dracula moved away. “I shall see you both for dinner,” the count called over his shoulder before he vanished out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you have it folks! By popular demand, the second chapter of, “Two and a Half Vampires”!  
> I do not know if I have the capacity to make this even longer so I hope that you all enjoy it. Thank you to the people who left me encouraging comments for the first chapter, it really motivated me to write this and I am dedicating this story to you!

Back in his rooms, exhausted as he was, Jonathan made an attempt to clean up the child as best he could with cloth and water. The babe had quietened down a little but was still making little mewls of discomfort for the water was not as warm as Jonathan would have preferred.

“I know,” Jonathan murmured.

He made several passes through the thick hair. Jonathan guessed that it may have been a soft honey shade before… well, before. Now the lank strands seemed, like the rest of the child's appearance, lifeless.

As he leaned over the child his crucifix swung free, catching the candlelight. The boy’s eyes widened and he stilled, watching the metal glint in rapt fascination. A clumsy hand reached out to grab at it. Jonathan watched on amazed.

_He is only a child._

The thought immobilized him. It was not the first time he had such a thought but it was the first time he had witnessed the boy acting in a childlike manner. Jonathan knew that the boy was vulnerable but seeing with his own eyes how unguarded the babe was sent a surge of emotion through his being that he had never before experienced for another living thing.

_How in heaven’s name do I take care of a child?_

Oblivious to his guardians' plight, the babe continued to amuse himself with capturing the medallion in his uncoordinated hands. The child’s eyes, once so dark and unnatural, now seemed to shine with the simple joy of his game.

Jonathan held the crucifix still and the babe closed his small fist around the cool metal. The child burbled happily at his success and Jonathan could feel the boy tug insistently at his prize. It was no sooner off of his neck when it was in the boy’s mouth, his features scrunched up as he mulled over his new acquisition. 

Using this distraction to his advantage Jonathan set about making himself look presentable. He had long since cared about his outward appearance, terror and fatigue deeming the practice of dressing for the day entirely inconsequential. Yet he felt as though he had a point to prove and picked out the cleanest clothes he had and hurriedly dressed.

Quite suddenly the boy shrieked. It was not the same noise that he had made earlier, when he was furious and hungry and clawing at Jonathan with all his might. This was a cry of delight and Jonathan was both pleased and dismayed to hear it.

He sat heavily on the bed beside the child. How could anyone find a sliver of joy in a place such as this? Jonathan absently brushed the boy’s hair out of his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

The child looked up at him. He let out another happy shriek at his own private game and Jonathan managed a watery smile. Perhaps, if he was being honest with himself, he could see that his reasons for keeping the babe were not as noble as he had convinced himself. Perhaps it wasn’t an act of redemption, of righting a wrong, of saving an innocent soul.

_Perhaps I am too afraid to do this on my own._

To sacrifice himself to sate whatever curiosities Dracula held towards him was an easy if terrifying decision. Anything to keep the devil’s mind occupied and his gaze away from London, to prevent him from infecting the rest of the world. Yet Jonathan could not deny that such a task would be an arduous one, one likely to weigh heavily on his soul and eventually beat him down.

But here was this small child, this physical tether to his last shreds of humanity, that Jonathan selfishly wished to keep for himself. He wasn’t fool enough to assume that Dracula had no interest in the babe, but Jonathan knew that this small creature could give him the strength to face each day.

_He needs me, and God help me but I need him too._

As if he were attuned to Jonathan's inner turmoil the child began to cry out in distress, the crucifix abandoned. Jonathan made an attempt to entice the boy back into his game but to no success. The moment had passed and the hunger had returned. 

He swaddled the boy in a clean sheet from his bedding and rubbed a soothing hand over the wailing child’s head. The man sighed.

"I know."

Jonathan hung the crucifix around his neck and slipped it under his shirt. The weight of it against his skin offered him some comfort. Then, unable to prevent the inevitable any longer Jonathan cradled the boy to his chest. The babe once again hungrily mouthed at the flesh of Jonathan’s clavicle as the man took them to the dining room.

The fire crackled in the grate. The count rose from his seat when Jonathan entered the room and ushered him into a chair close to the fire. Jonathan was wary of the smile the count wore.

“I have a gift that I think you will appreciate, my dear Johnny,” he murmured, reaching over Jonathan’s shoulder to touch the child’s face. It took a considerable amount of effort not to instinctively recoil at the count’s touch.

Jonathan could smell the blood before he saw it. When Dracula placed a wine bottle and a glass in front of him he could feel his shoulders sag in relief. The next object that was put on the table made him shudder at the wrongness of its existence. The child fussed in his arms.

_I suppose I should be grateful that he didn’t drop a body onto the table._

Dracula retook his seat and openly watched Jonathan from across the table. Jonathan’s mouth watered, his teeth felt sharp against his tongue, and he swallowed with difficulty. The hunger that he had pushed to the back of his mind returning in full force. 

The baby’s harsh squall brought him back to the present. Adjusting his hold Jonathan reached past the wine bottle and picked up the glass baby bottle that was filled to the brim with blood. As soon as the hard rubber nipple was pressed against the babe’s blue lips he began suckling with gusto, making contented grumbles around his mouthful.

“Eager little thing, isn’t he?” Jonathan tore his gaze away from the child and looked up at Dracula. Black eyes were fixed on the child, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Jonathan instinctively held the boy closer to him. The count’s eyes flicked up to meet Jonathan’s. The smile grew wider.

“Thirsty?” The count took the wine bottle and poured Jonathan a glass of the viscous liquid. With great effort Jonathan turned his attention back to the babe. Surprisingly, the small boy had almost finished the bottle.

“I think he needs more,” he said. 

Dracula hummed. “I shall refill it. Don’t forget yourself now. You need all of your strength when you have a child.” He pushed the glass closer. 

Resolve finally crumbling Jonathan reached out a shaking hand and brought the glass to his lips. All too soon it was empty and he gasped as the harsh tang of iron slid down the back of his throat. The count appeared at his side holding the promised baby bottle in one hand, the other firmly grasping Jonathan’s shoulder. The babe reached a hand up towards the bottle and made an insistent grunt.

“Thank you,” murmured Jonathan when the boy resettled in his arms.

Dracula made no move to return to his place at the table. The weight of his hand was beginning to feel like a brand on Jonathan’s skin. Cautiously Jonathan turned to look up into the face of the creature and was momentarily surprised at the expression he found there.

_Has he not seen a child before?_

It was gone in an instant and a sardonic grin once more contorted the beast's features as his attention turned back to the Englishman.

“Have you decided on a name yet, Johnny?” With his unoccupied hand Dracula poured another healthy measure of the viscous liquid into the wine glass. “I have a few suggestions myself.”

Jonathan suddenly had a wild thought that the babe’s mother was at this very instant racing towards the castle with the intent of rescuing her child. She would pound on the doors, screaming his name, demanding that he be returned to her, pleading through her enraged sobs, begging for her child.

“He already has one,” Jonathan managed. His throat felt as if the count’s hands were once more squeezing the life out of him. The cloying aroma of the blood also wasn’t helping matters.

Long clawed fingers curled into the fabric of Jonathan’s shirt. “Indeed.” His gaze flicked back to the child who was warring against sleep in Jonathan’s arms, the bottle still bobbing lazily as he drank the last of his meal. 

“Even so,” began the count. The tall creature then leaned down so that his lips nearly brushed against Jonathan’s ear with every word he breathed out, his eyes never leaving the child. “Think of this as his rebirth. A new beginning, Johnny. Our son should be given a name that embodies such strength, such power.”

Jonathan was glad he was seated for his legs turned to water at the count’s choice of words. It wasn’t all that long ago that Dracula was denying the babe’s existence as its wails reverberated against these very walls, and now he was claiming the child as his own.

“He is not your son,” Jonathan rasped.

“He is more mine than yours.”

The boy cooed in the Englishman’s arms, the bottle now empty, and blinked sleepily up at the faces above him. Jonathan wrapped him more securely in his blanket and cradled his small head in his hand.

“There, that’s put some colour back into his cheeks,” murmured the count. His large hand drifted to the back of Jonathan’s neck and pressed.

Jonathan was surprised to see that the babe’s pallor had, almost imperceptibly, changed to something that closer resembled living flesh. He clenched his jaw. Perhaps he was also changing.

_There are no mirrors in this accursed castle so we shall be one another’s reflection._

“I think he’ll have your eyes.” As close as he was bodily pressed to the smaller man, Dracula’s voice when it came sounded far away. Jonathan watched on as the count reached a hand down to the boy and gently swept the fine hairs out of the child's drooping eyes.

Jonathan cringed. He didn’t want that. The child should have his mother's eyes, his mother's name, his mother’s embrace. He shuddered.

“I should lay him down to sleep,” he instead suggested. Jonathan made no move to stand but waited for Dracula to grant him leave.

His black eyes when they met Jonathan's bright blues seemed to burn with something Jonathan couldn't name. Without breaking his gaze Dracula brought the as yet undrunk glass of blood up to Jonathan’s lips. 

“You need your strength, Johnny. Drink.” 

Jonathan couldn't deny him if he tried. His arms full, his head steadied, his senses clouded, Jonathan shakily parted his lips. Quickly the glass was drained once again and Jonathan sighed. 

A thumb swiped at the corner of his mouth in an achingly tender gesture and the count's red tongue lapped at the drop of blood it had collected. For a long moment they both stared at one another. 

“Rest now,” said the count, straightening himself up to his full height. “It's been a long day.”

Dracula strode out of the room without a backwards glance. Jonathan looked down at the now peacefully sleeping child in his arms. He felt weary to his bones yet he knew sleep wouldn’t come easily that night, nor any night hence.


End file.
